Anxiety is a Thief

Anxiety is a Thief

By John Quillin

My youngest son is twelve. I do my best to make sure he remembers that he is a kid. When I was his age, my world turned upside down and I felt like I was robbed of my childhood. My grandmother passed away from breast cancer, my parents divorced, and we moved across the country from Ripley, Ohio back to Ramona, CA. I loved being back in California, but it didn’t come without challenges. I had no friends, I had to attend a new school, and I didn’t have my dad around anymore. I quickly became the man of the house, taking care of my six-year-old brother while my mom enjoyed her newly single life. While I loved being a big brother, I know there were times I could have treated him better. We became involved in sports, and hockey became my outlet. I loved it and I was great at it. A few travel teams recruited me and equipment makers had started to sponsor me. Sometimes, my mom was a supportive hockey mom, other times she’d disappear, either to Vegas with her friends or Napa with her boyfriend. It was during these times, my stress was the highest. I was the one worried about making sure we were fed, homework was finished, grades were good, our laundry was done, and the house was clean.

I’m now a hypocrite. A big one. I tell my son all the time to move on from stuff, but in reality, I hate those words – just move on. I told my father once about a panic attack I was having, right in the middle of it, triggered by something from my past. He said, “I just don’t get why you can’t let go and just move on.” I believe he was trying to be helpful, but it just made it worse. My inability to move on caused me to get my head even more because I viewed it as a personal weakness. Through therapy and a strong support system, I’ve learned (and I’m still learning) how to navigate my mental health struggles in a health way.

In an effort to create a different childhood for my kids, I try my best to make sure Jack remembers that he is kid. Despite my best efforts, sometimes his worries overwhelm him, and I often fear these worries are robbing a bit of his childhood. We try and reinforce that he has permission to just be a child. His worries range from very small things to very heavy concerns. He was traumatized by an active shooter drill in the 5th grade that he (nor his teachers) had prior warning of. In that moment, in his mind, he was experiencing a school shooting. His teacher, who he could normally look to for reassurance, was just as shaken as the students. Kids were crying, people in the hall were yelling. Chaos. Now, each time he hears of a shooting he enters his anxiety spiral. He worries about his own safety and those affected by the event. We have to go through our (now routine) list of reasons he is safe and repeat the statistical unlikelihood that it will happen to him. Now, in middle school, his guidance counselor warns him of upcoming drills and even gives him the option of sitting in her office while they are occurring. Therapy has also helped.

He worries about the greater good, the condition of the world, his friends when they are sick, and the happiness of those around him. He is so empathetic and cares so much for others. While I love that about him, I fear that sometimes he worries too much. These worries invade the things he enjoys doing as well. I am his soccer coach and must frequently reassure him that missing a kick or getting the ball stolen isn’t the end of the world. It doesn’t mean that he has let his team down. I want to make sure he knows that he is a fantastic kid. He is intelligent, funny and full of love.

I interact with children through my volunteer work with elementary youth in our church, and through coaching a team of middle school aged soccer players. I’ve noticed a startling trend of increased anxiety in kids. They miss a goal and then can’t refocus. They bring up a worry about something that happened at school that they can’t move on from. While these are just my experience, I wonder if others are seeing the same. I wonder what is going on. I can say that I hope as dads, we are doing all we can to reinforce to our children that they are loved.

Allow them to enjoy their childhood as best you can.

Create an environment that encourages conversation about mental health, so that your kids will tell you when they are not okay.

Get kids with anxiety or depression to the therapist as soon as you notice these things.

Find your village – dads, teachers, guidance counselors, therapists, pastors, and others with whom you can both share and receive advice.

Some of us dads grew up in homes where the word “therapist” was treated the same as the worst curse word. Reflecting now, I find this ridiculous. This is likely why, in my younger days, I was resistant to share my feelings with professionals. Overcoming that stigma saved my life, and I know that it saved my marriage. It’s where I learned that being good enough is okay.

Are we doing all we can to make sure our kids have childhoods? Are we putting too much pressure on our kids to be the best? Are we looking at colleges with our 12 – 15 year old children? (Guilty!) Let us do our best to allow our kids to be kids. They only get one childhood. Are we doing enough to let them enjoy it?